


Neither of Heroes Nor of Tyrants

by Pikachewy99



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikachewy99/pseuds/Pikachewy99
Summary: A little thing for the Cross-Turned-Tyrant AU that's been going around.





	

“ _Murderer._ ” 

Melon turned around at the accusation, expression blank. He was met with eyes, filled to the brim with tears and anguish. There was no time to respond. Before he knew it, he was being grabbed by the collar and was hoisted forward, his face mere millimeters away from the other’s.

“Those people could’ve been _saved_ . They could’ve been brought back. They were human. They deserved to live. How could you kill them? Kill _her_?” Their voice cracked momentarily, but they continued to yell, their grief washing over Melon in the form of sound and spit. “And you call yourself a hero?”

They laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and crazed with grief. “All you are is a glorified killer, a dog of the military with a shiny badge that gives you the okay to take someone’s life. You-”

“You’re wrong.” Melon had laid a firm hand on the one gripping his vest, eyes still calm, professional.

Confusion momentarily swam in the other’s eyes, before being displaced by anger once more. “ _I’m_ wrong? You don’t know anything-”

“ _You’re wrong_.” Melon repeated, a sliver of strain slipping through his cold front. He took a deep breath, and freed himself, stepping back.

The person threw their hands out, becoming desperate, almost pleading. “Do you not feel anything? Do you feel no guilt for the people you’ve killed, the lives you stolen? Do you know what it feels like to have your friend ripped away-”

“Don’t talk as if you know ANYTHING ABOUT ME.” It was Melon who advanced. It was his hand clamping around the collar of their shirt, his arm that jerked their face towards his. The calm facade was done, and all the rage, guilt, doubt, and  he had been storing deep inside surfaced in the form of a twisted, pained expression. His voice was practically a snarl. “You don’t think I don’t feel any guilt? You don’t think I’ve regretted every life I took, every trigger I pulled? You think despite all I’ve done, I call myself a _hero_?”

“Do you think I want to see the life fading from their eyes? Do you think I _like_ knowing that I’m responsible for it? The answer is no, and you’re fucking wrong for thinking that I would ever take pleasure in doing what I do, thinking that I don’t feel anything when I’m the one who ends a person’s chances of living to smile another day.”

He shoved them away, lip quivering. “Seeing people on the edge of madness… Seeing people I used to call friends… Seeing them forsake humanity, and throw away everything they ever believed in… Even through the pain of them not recognizing me… Through the pain of seeing that they weren’t _them_ anymore… I still wanted to save them. I still believed they had a chance. I thought that they could be brought back. But you can’t negotiate with insanity. You can’t bring back someone who’s decided to throw themselves past the point of no return.” His gaze darkened.

“It’s my job to protect. My job to make sure people in NLA can feel safe. My job to protect the simple joys like walks in the parks or drinks with a friend, because without someone protecting that, they can’t exist. So I protect. And sometimes, protecting one thing means sacrificing something else.” A pause.

“Sometimes, that sacrifice is of something dear.”

Melon turned his gaze away.

  
_I’m sorry._


End file.
